Of Astronomers and Astronauts: Outtakes
by Sparked To Life
Summary: Here is the dumping ground for all of those scenes I would have loved to put in Of Astronomers and Astronauts, but couldn't because they messed with the flow of the story. There will be humor and angst and everything in between.
1. Chapter 1

**These are basically just a collection of scenes I would have loved to put in my story,** Of Astronomers and Astronauts, **but couldn't because they messed with the flow of the plot. They occur in no particular order, and updates will be sporadic as I am only planning on writing them when I am a hostage of the dreaded realm of Writer's Block. Like I am now. Reviews are the ransom. I beg you to pay it. It's scary in this realm; I imagine this is what the Underworld looks like.**

* * *

 **Of Astronomers and Astronauts: Outtakes**

 **Scene One:** Why it's a Horrible, Terrible, Really, Very Bad Idea to Piss Off Cassandra Lopez, M.D.

On the wall of a small animal rescue there was a Sign - and yes, the capital letter was very necessary. The Sign had to be specially made for the shelter, as it contained a rather uncommon message: **This is an animal shelter. If you're not here about an animal, get out. We reserve the right to remove you from the premises with force, if it is so necessary.**

Not many people paid much attention to the Sign.

The reason for the Sign was not because of the shelter itself, but because of a frequent volunteer to the establishment. You see, Eric Kirby, much to his chagrin, was famous. He loved the shelter and would never give it up; in fact, it was the only place he could be relied on to go to on a regular basis. However, this escape had been discovered. Several months ago, a reporter had managed to track him to this hideaway, and for several weeks afterwards the shelter was plagued with the dreaded pestilence…. _Tabloid newshounds._

Then, the Sign was put up.

At first, nobody paid any attention. Then, they met the person who was reserving the right to use force.

Dr. Cassandra Lopez. The head of the shelter. The resident vet. La Jefa. The pseudo older sister to Eric Kirby. One hundred and twenty-three pounds of pure Latina fire.

She was also a registered taser owner.

People learned very quickly to pay attention to the Sign.

However, every now and then a poor, ignorant soul stumbled into the shelter with less than honorable intentions. It was such a case on one bright, February day when Eric Kirby turned the corner to the shelter, only to be greeted by the bright flash of a camera.

Eric gritted his teeth as he pushed open the door to the building and entered, followed by a trio of reporters. One would think they would learn sooner or later, but apparently not. He said nothing as he walked into the lobby; he had learned the hard way that it was better not to respond to them. Calmly, he went towards the doors to the kennels, only for one of the men to move in his path. Annoyed, Eric stopped.

"Come on, Kirby; just one interview," the reporter crowed. The man had impossibly straight, blindingly white teeth, slick black hair, a hard jaw line, and an arrogant facade that suggested he believed himself to be better looking than he actually was.

Eric just pointed to the Sign with an expectant look on his face. The man glanced disinterestedly at it once, and continued to snap pictures.

This was a mistake.

The kennel doors swung open to reveal a distinctly unimpressed Dr. Cassandra Lopez. She glanced around the group and fixed the Colgate Whitening Stripes Spokesperson with a glare. "This is a shelter is run by a private organization; you have no right to be here. Get out before I call the cops."

The leader of the gang just waved her off. "We just want a few words with the kid and we'll be off."

Cass marched over to the front desk and picked up the phone receiver. She punched in three numbers and was about to press send when the man grabbed her arm and yanked it back, _hard._

"Back off, lady! I'm trying to do my job; you don't have to go calling the cops on me! We'll get our story and be out of here when we're done, _no sooner."_

Cass yanked her arm out of his grasp, spun around, and reached her hand into her deep, lab coat pocket. She pinned the man with one last enraged glare before she pulled out her weapon and pointed it… south. Eric winced as she gave the man a cheery smile and pulled the trigger of the taser, watching as the man collapsed to the ground, harmed in a place a man should never be harmed. Calmly, she turned towards the man's companions, ignoring his convulsing on the ground. "Drag your buddy out of here and don't come back."

Fearfully they complied, each grabbing a leg and pulling him out of the front door, their legs squeezed together protectively. In their haste, they accidently rammed their less fortunate colleague into several pieces of furniture, causing the man to groan and Eric to wince in sympathy.

Cass: 9

Press: 0

Really, you'd think they'd send out a newsletter or something about this place.

Then, Cass turned on Eric, lifting an imperious eyebrow and saying, "Don't you have work to do?"

Eric may be a little bit in love with Cass.

* * *

 **This chapter is dedicated to all of those people that wanted Cass to have actually tasered the reporter in the last chapter of** Of Astronomers and Astronauts. **You know who you are.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Thanks to** icanhascamaro **for reviewing, and to everyone that followed and favorited!**

 **I hate Writer's Block. I really, really hate it. It's not often a problem for me, thankfully, but right now it is. It's terrible. I feel like moping, but that's counterproductive, so I'm writing what I can find the words for instead.**

* * *

 **Of Astronomers and Astronauts: Outtakes**

 **Scene Two:** The Song of Grief

" _Amanda Kirby?"_

At first, she hadn't noticed anything was wrong.

It was normal to be a little late. Hadn't she been late returning from her hair appointment? They probably had gotten held up at the docks, or had been stuck in traffic on the way back to the hotel. They were fine. There was no way they couldn't be fine. It was _Ben and Eric._

" _The Coast Guard has returned from patrolling the path the boat was alleged to have taken…"_

But then it became later and later, and Amanda found herself sitting in the back of a cab, telling herself she was being ridiculous.

" _...and I regret to inform you…"_

' _No.'_

She had arrived at the docks to chaos. When she finally managed to find someone that spoke English, she learnt that the boat hadn't returned at all, and no one knew why. They had tried hailing the boat through its radio, but to no avail. Nobody had answered.

Amanda had almost collapsed when she heard that.

" _...that the vessel was discovered off of the coast of Isla Sorna…"_

' _What about my son?'_

Instead of fainting, she had rushed to the nearest police station. She had babbled and shouted uselessly for several minutes, trying to get them to understand that _her son was missing,_ before she managed to calm down enough to be comprehensible. The authorities sent out a ship automatically.

" _...completely destroyed."_

' _Oh please God_ no.'

They had come back a few hours later, their faces drawn and their hats in their hands.

" _Based on the evidence found on the scene…"_

' _Oh please you don't understand…'_

Amanda had wasted several hours screaming that someone better send a rescue team to Sorna _now_ before realizing it was a waste of time and marching off to find the American Embassy.

" _...and the location of the crash…"_

' _...Eric's_ twelve.'

They told her the exact same thing as the Costa Ricans.

" _...we have no choice but to declare…"_

' _He's my_ son.'

Amanda had spent hours begging, _pleading_ for help while officials just looked on with pity. Eventually, they managed to corral her back to her hotel, where she stood numbly in the door of her room, completely detached from the world.

Until she saw Eric's smiling face beaming up at her from a stack of pictures she had developed earlier that day.

And Amanda Kirby _screamed._

" _...Mr. Ben Hildebrand…"_

' _You have to - have to help them.'_

She doubled over, screaming and crying and making incomprehensible promises to God if He would just _save Ben and Eric._ There was this _thing_ in her chest, formed of teeth and claws and tearing her heart until it was nothing but bloody shreds. Helplessly, she fell to the ground, her forehead pressed to the carpet and her sobs echoing through the _too empty oh God why is it so empty_ room and her arms wrapped around her middle as if it were the only way to keep herself from falling apart.

" _...and your son, Eric Kirby…"_

' _You have to_ save _them.'_

Then, she stopped crying.

 _Her son wasn't dead._

He couldn't be dead. She would know if he was dead. She would feel it. His heart was still beating, his lungs were still breathing.

If he died, _so did she._

Eric was everything. Her entire world had dwindled down to that one tiny person the first moment she had held him in her arms, and her world would _end_ the moment he did.

She had to save him. Had to save both of them. She just couldn't do it alone.

So she crawled across the floor, not even possessing the strength to stand, towards the phone sitting innocently on the table. She grabbed the device and punched in a number that had once been hers before pressing the receiver to her ear and praying there would be an answer.

" _...dead."_

' _You're_ wrong.'

"Paul?"


	3. Chapter 3

**So, if you are wondering how Kelly and Eric ended up dating, here it is.**

 **Of Astronomers and Astronauts: Outtakes**

* * *

 **Scene Three:** Puppy Love… You Know, if those Puppies were Bloodthirsty Wolves

Much to everybody's surprise, Kelly had become a frequent fixture in the Kirby household. The fact that she lived eight hours away didn't faze her; she would often be found rattling up the driveway in her old truck, "Roberta" (and Eric had no idea why she felt the need to name her car) after some fight with her parents. The Kirby family didn't mind; she was more than welcome in their home, and had spent many a night in their small guest room.

However, her frequent presence had raised another problem: noise. To be exact, the noise caused by Eric and Kelly.

Eric's parents had eventually sat them down about the issue and told them to keep it in the garage.

"We're not going to stop your fun," his father had reassured. "You two don't seem to have much that holds your interest nowadays, so we won't put an end to what does. It's just that the constant banging is driving us crazy. So please, just do it in the garage and be careful, okay?"

The pair had abided by the rules of the house and had moved their operation into the garage, where they found themselves spending most of their time.

"So, I feel we should be dating," Kelly stated randomly one afternoon.

Eric frowned. "Why?" he panted distractedly. "Plenty of people do this, and they're not dating."

Kelly shrugged. "Why not?"

"I'm younger than you, for one thing," he pointed out.

Kelly rolled her eyes. "So? You're not that much younger than me, and anyways, if we were older, the age gap would be practically meaningless. Besides, it's not like we have many options. I haven't had a date that didn't want to spend the entire night talking about my father in forever, and I know your attempt with that Miranda girl crashed and burned. I like you; you like me. What's the problem?"

For a moment, Eric took his attention away from the task at hand and pondered the idea. She was correct on all accounts but… They had a nice thing going here. What if they ruined it? "What would we even do?"

"I dunno; hang out, I guess. Go to movies, talk on the phone, same thing we usually do."

Eric hesitated, thinking.

"Besides," she prompted with a smirk. "Can you imagine the look on my dad's face when he finds out?"

Eric grinned. "I like this idea."

"Good," Kelly smiled before turning the momentum of Eric's attack against him and slamming him into the ground.

They were still trying to figure out who was the better fighter.

Both of them had stepped up their game after the fight in Malcolm's basement. They had joined MMA clubs in their respective home towns to better their skills, and sparred whenever they were in the same city, which was usually San Diego and therefore at Eric's house. The only problem was that they appeared to be pretty evenly matched. Which, of course, had led to rematch after rematch, effectively driving his parents insane and getting themselves banished to the garage

"So," Kelly gasped, bending over in exertion. "Dating?"

"Dating," Eric agreed, groaning as he climbed back up to his feet.

Then, he promptly threw a punch at his new girlfriend, watching as she managed to dodge the fist but not the kick he had sent as the follow up attack.

* * *

 **Okay, so here's how I see the development of their relationship: All other attempts at dating crash and burn. They are two friends that understand one another, and harbor slight feelings for each other. They enter into a relationship, partly because they're young and hormonal messes trying to figure out how they fit in the world, partly because they want to freak out their parents. Their relationship gets more serious as they get to know each other, and they become one another's first "real" relationship. Eventually, they mutually break up because it's just not meant to be, but they remain friends.**

 **Also, there are endless ways to misconstrue two teenagers in a sparring match. Just a note.**


	4. Chapter 4

**So, explanation (excuses) time. I have been swamped these past few weeks. Right after the last update of** _Of Astronomers and Astronauts,_ **I smacked face first into a haze of AP Testing. It was scary. You don't know panic until you realize that your AP Art History test is on at the** _ **exact same time**_ **as your AP Physics test. Then, once I finally escaped that battleground, my teachers all decided that since it was the end of the school year, they should load up on tons of projects just to make us cry. Now, it's summer, and my petty high school problems like getting an education have ended for three months, so I finally get a chance to write, and to beg for your forgiveness for disappearing right when I finally got Owen to Jurassic World. This is me begging for your forgiveness, by the way. I already have the next chapter half written, and I'll get it up as soon as possible. However, I thought that I'd write a quick scene for** _Outtakes_ **so that you all wouldn't think that I had died, or something. This scene depicts Eric and Billy's prison break, for the record. Also, thanks to** icanhascamaro **for the great review!**

* * *

 **Of Astronomers and Astronauts: Outtakes**

 **Scene Four:** Eric and Billy's Excellent Adventure

During his time on Isla Sorna, Eric had learnt quite a bit about the importance of the Art of Observation.

For example, he knew that if he didn't observe that a Dilophosaurus was stalking him as prey, he would die. If he didn't observe that the berry he was about to eat was not a delicious treat, but in fact a very deadly, very poisonous cousin to the edible berries, he would die. If he didn't observe that the velociraptors' patrols intersected with his path home at a certain time, he would die.

So yes, Eric considered observation to be very important.

Of course he would continue the practice after he left the island. It was the only way he gained _useful_ information.

Like the fact that every 47-59 minutes, Nameless Guard #3 abandoned his post for a smoke break that lasted, on average, approximately eight and a half minutes.

Which meant Eric had approximately eight and a half minutes to hijack a wheelchair, snag Billy's clothes and wallet, and get both of them out the door, all without his parents noticing him.

Having a challenge that was not life-threatening was a refreshing change, Eric found.

"Okay, here we go," Eric breathed to the tense Billy. Quickly, he began to wheel him out of the room, watching carefully for the overly officious nurses that kept trying to "check in" on them.

Sixty feet to the end of the hallway.

Forty-five feet.

Thirty feet.

The door opened before they reached it, revealing a guard that had finished his smoke break forty-three seconds early.

Well, crap.

Luckily, Nameless Guard #3 was more concerned with brushing ash off of his mustard-stained shirt than with noticing the two patients in the middle of an epic jail-break. Eric quickly shoved Billy into an empty room, almost crashing him into a wall in the process.

"Any more bright ideas?" Billy hissed.

Eric glanced around the room, a plan forming in his mind. "I got a couple."

Quickly, he snatched up a half-empty tissue box and glanced warily out the hall. Nameless Guard #3 was the image of vigilance, having ignored the current state of the hallway in favor of picking up a book that Eric didn't need his terrible Spanish to know that it was a cheap romance novel. He hurled the box aimlessly down the hallway, watching as it thudded home against a wall and slid underneath a chair. As the guard glanced away to inspect the noise, Eric skidded out of the room and through the door, shoving Billy in front of him. After that, it was simple to slip out of a back door, into the bright sunlight of freedom.

Well, the partially cloudy sunlight of freedom, but whatever.

Eric and Billy grinned at each other.

* * *

Eric grunted as he shoved the wheelchair through the sand. The crowds were loud, the sand was sticky, and the crash of the waves was enough to send Eric into flashbacks about that terrible parasailing trip.

"Okay," he acquiesced. "Dropping by the beach for some time in the sun was a bad idea."

* * *

The structure in the center of the plaza looked a bit like a giraffe had fused with a tree, then fell over onto a hippopotamus-jaguar crossbreed, Eric thought.

"I'll never understand modern art," Billy declared absently.

Eric agreed with him.

* * *

"This is you, yes?"

The shopkeeper had been eyeing Eric and Billy since they had walked (or rolled) into the store. Seemingly coming to a decision, he had hurried over to the pair while they were inspecting novelty t-shirts, holding out a newspaper in front of him with determination.

The front page had an enlarged picture of Eric Kirby sprawled across the front of it.

"Uh, no," Eric lied. "Sorry. I'm not Eric Kirby. My name's … Owen."

Billy snorted.

The shopkeeper did not look convinced.

Eric sighed. "What is that?" he asked dramatically, arranging his face into a look of shock and pointing behind the man.

The shopkeeper did not look where Eric pointed.

For an awkward moment, they all stood there, staring at one another. Then, Eric grabbed Billy's wheelchair and booked it out of the store.

* * *

The food truck had been haphazardly parked next to the curb, its facade dirty and its metal awning dented. Even from across the street, the pair could smell the grease and "meat."

"I feel this is a reliable culinary establishment," Billy declared with an absolutely straight face.

Relying on Billy's talent in Spanish, they both ordered several tacos and wheeled over to a nearby bench to eat the meal.

"Today was a good day," Eric decided, crunching his taco as he stared off into the sunset. Next to him, Billy nodded in agreement, still seated in his wheelchair.

A shadow passed over where they sat. "Ahem."

Eric glanced up. "Hello, Dr. Grant, Dr. Degler."

Neither of them looked impressed.

Billy held up his half-eaten meal in supplication. "Taco?"


End file.
